In Today Already Walks Tomorrow
by PiWithApple
Summary: Danny's run in with the CIA was not without consequence.


_A/N: Written for the exchange comm over on LJ. Do check it out, plenty of lovely fics!_

_Huge thanks to my beta Sym64, without her this wouldn't make nearly as much sense. All remaining mistakes are my own._

* * *

Steve sat hunched over, gently kneading the tension out of his shoulders and strained to hear the sound of the waves over the infomercials Danny insisted helped him sleep. His partner had mumbled something about staying at Steve's until he implanted a tracker in him. At the time, Steve had been far too tired to protest. Now, though, he couldn't find it in him to succumb to blissful unconsciousness.

He had a familiar nagging feeling that refused to wait until the morning to be dealt with. Perhaps it had to do with Danny's unusual demeanor. Steve knew the situation at work would be uncomfortable for awhile, given his _completely necessary_, sudden departure but he hadn't expected the silence that filled the air as Danny drove him home. Allowing Danny to drive him around for a week was but a small price to pay in exchange for not being forced to spend the night in a hospital for 'observation'. What was it that they needed to observe? How bad whiplash could get when you're in a plane crash and hand-to-hand combat shortly after?

Danny had always had a huge presence, and Steve guessed it was probably to make up for his small stature but to voice that thought would probably mean certain painful death. Steve had grown to appreciate that about Danny, though, because it meant that even in silence, the man spoke volumes. Two years of working together had given Steve a fairly admirable understanding of Danny's mannerisms and as much as he hated to admit it, his inability to interpret Danny's inexplicable silence was the only thing keeping him awake.

Despite training his hearing on the waves, he still picked up on the sound of a latch clicking open and his attention was instantly drawn to his front door. He crept through the door leading back into the house, trying to decide whether to map out the quickest route to his gun, or his partner.

Steve would later wonder just how tired he had been, that it took him more than a split second to recognize the sound of a gas canister hitting his floor and the strange smell it released. By the time he had, it was beyond his ability to react and he found himself succumbing to the effects of the gas. It was almost funny how thankful his body was for the much needed release, regardless of the source. And moments later the world went dark.

* * *

The last couple of weeks had been difficult without Steve but Chin knew sleep would be easier to achieve tonight than it had been in a long while. Which was why, when his phone rang, he had to convince himself that throwing the offending device against a wall was not an appropriate solution.

"What?" he growled, because a more polite response took too much energy to assemble.

"Lieutenant Kelly?" an apprehensive voice asked.

"Yes, Chin Ho Kelly, Five-0. And you are?"

"I'm a warden at Halawa Correctional, Lieutenant and uh... the prisoner that Commander McGarrett brought in is... uh..."

"What about him?" any drowsiness all but abandoned Chin at the mention of Wo Fat.

The warden cleared his throat, "He's gone."

Chin shot out of bed and felt across the floor for the clothes he had thrown off earlier, "What do you mean he's _gone_?"

"...His cell is empty," the warden answered after a brief pause.

"Oh well that's _helpful_. I'll be there in half an hour and if you have any intention of keeping your job, you _will_ have answers as to how a prisoner in _ maximum_ security just walked out."

"He didn't just _walk out_, Lieutenant-" The warden almost sounded offended and for the second time, Chin fought the urge to throw his phone against the wall "-We're pulling up security footage now, but there are no signs of him having tampered with the door at all. If he had, an alarm would have gone off immediately. The doors are all electronically operated. We've also informed HPD and they have put an APB out."

Chin thanked the warden and hung up, immediately dialing Steve's number. Neither Steve nor Danny answered their phones and Chin prayed it was merely because they were heavier sleepers than he was, despite knowing that couldn't be further from the truth.

By the time he tried his cousin, he had woken Malia but only had the time to spare her an apologetic glance before telling Kono to make her way over to McGarrett's before joining him at the prison. Chin could only imagine what Steve would do to the warden if they didn't have a better idea of what happened by the time the Commander got there.

Fifteen minutes later, Chin was still en route to Halawa Correctional when his phone rang, a picture of his cousin riding a wave flashing across the screen.

"Yeah, cuz?"

"They're not here," Kono said quietly.

"They're probably already on their way. I'll meet-"

"No, Chin. Something's wrong. The Camaro and Steve's truck are in the driveway, the door to the lanai is open, their clothes from earlier are here, right in front of me," Kono's voice cracked and increased in pitch as she relayed each observation, "Pizza box on the counter, empty beer bottles, Danny's blanket on the couch. Chin, they were here and they're _gone_."

"Okay, okay, calm down. I want to get this Wo Fat thing checked out, can you handle things there?"

"I… Yes, yes I can," Kono answered, forcing confidence into her answer.

"Good. Call in the CSU, tell them to analyze the air if they have to, if something happened I want to know what and how. Get a patrol out on the beach, just in case they decided to take a stroll. I'll call you back within the hour."

Chin hung up, took a deep breath and glanced at his watch. _Three a.m._, he thought to himself, _so much for a good nights' sleep_.

* * *

A slight tickle in his throat was the only warning Steve got before a whooping cough tore through him, amplifying his headache and sending shockwaves of pain through his bruised body.

The coughing subsided and he shifted slightly, trying to move the bulk of his weight onto his side, instead of on his aching back but pain shot through his hip and Steve was jolted awake by the realization that he was lying on a hard, flat surface.

He assumed he had fallen asleep on the lanai and briefly wondered why he wasn't on one of the deck chairs instead. He rolled to his side and gasped in surprise when the ground fell out beneath him and a moment later his body collided hard with another, similar surface. With both hands braced against the floor, Steve pulled his body up slowly and his eyes immediately focused on the red fluid staining the spot his temple cracked against.

He reached for his forehead with one hand and gently felt around his temple and hissed when he made contact with an open wound. He now knew the red fluid was blood, but continued to study the floor, because there was something very wrong with this picture. He couldn't remember having had more than one beer the night before, or rather, one sip before Danny snatched it out of his hand because, "Beer with a c_oncussion_, Steven, really?"

Steve smiled at the memory and listened for the sound of Danny's snoring or the infomercials but heard what could only be described as… noise. _Not home then_, he reasoned. Assuming he had been dragged back to the hospital at some point, he looked down at himself and realized he was wearing some sort of orange jumper and flashes of memory from the beginning of the year assaulted him. He stared down at the ground two inches below his face, concrete.

Fueled by terror, Steve flipped onto his back and saw a grille across the opening of his… cell. He had imagined it, escaping from prison, being cleared of all charges, Five-0's reinstatement, all of it. Had Hesse even stabbed him? He ripped off the top of his jumper to look for the scar and was shocked to find a myriad of bruising.

Steve's breathing grew erratic. Maybe his fight with Hesse had been worse than he realized, and he created a happy little world for himself.

_Why wasn't he in the infirmary? _

_Where was Danny? _

_Chin was still a traitor. _

_And Kono… _

Black spots clouded Steve's vision and before he could exert control over his panicked response, unconsciousness claimed him.

* * *

Danny woke to movement and assumed he was on some kind of vehicle. The last thing he remembered, though, was dinner at Steve's. He suddenly became aware of the fact that he had a splitting headache and decided against opening his eyes. Instead, he tried to reach up and massage his temples but found that he couldn't feel his hands. Panic flooded through him and he tried to kick out with his legs but found he couldn't feel those either.

Against his better judgment, Danny cracked open his eyes slightly and was greeted with darkness. His breathing became harsh and he parted his parched lips in an attempt to gather more air into his lungs and accidentally sucked in a sort of harsh material. In the split second before a cough could force its way out, Danny managed to put together the scraps of information he had and gathered that he had been kidnapped.

_My turn to disappear, eh Steve?_ Danny mused.

The thought made him wonder where his partner was before he felt something heavy collide with his head and he knew no more.

* * *

Bradley Davidson had very little in his life that was constant, drifting from one foster home to another after his mother died when he was five, went through three high schools before he decided he probably wasn't going to graduate, and enlisted in the army instead.

Black Ops was an outlet for him and he wouldn't go so far as to say he ienjoyed/i the work, but he was content. It did, however, mean he didn't have much time for a life outside of it. The only connection he had to the world outside for most of the year, and the only constant in his life so far, was Danny Williams.

The circumstances in which he met Danny were… unsavory to say the least. He was starting to experience withdrawal symptoms and needed a fix. So he cracked Danny's head against a wall and stole his wallet.

A week later, one of his 'friends' decided having a gun would make 'earning' money a lot easier and Brad decided he'd had enough. His reward was the beating of a lifetime. He stumbled to the nearest house which, as luck would have it, was Danny's.

Danny never mentioned the mugging and for the three weeks that the Williams family took him in, never spoke to him unless absolutely necessary. Somewhere in between Mr Williams pushing Danny into helping Brad get his life back together and Brad's steering Matt away from the wrong crowds, the two became fierce friends.

Once a month they'd spend an hour on the phone to catch up. A tradition he, at first, took great pains to hide from the rest of his team but when they inevitably found out, he did nothing to correct their assumption of Danny being short for Danielle, his girlfriend.

The only time Danny had ever missed a call was when Rachel left him. He hadn't thought much of it, until Matt called him to fill him in. So now, three days past their last 'check-in', Brad was justifiably worried, seeing as Danny had still found it in him to call after Grace's kidnapping.

Danny had given him a number for one Steven J McGarrett, and Brad had called the man five times now, to no avail. The direct line to his work place was constantly busy and Brad's patience was wearing thin. The local news provided no information, but he hadn't expected much anyway. As a last resort, he called HPD only to have his request to be patched through to Five 0 to be politely declined.

The following morning, Brad handed in a long overdue application for a fortnight's worth of leave and booked a flight to Hawai'i. Danny had been trying to get him to visit for some time now and he found himself praying that this was some elaborate scheme to get him to take a holiday.

* * *

Steve woke to the sound of a door clanging open. A quick, fuzzy glance in the general direction of the sound told him that the door to his… cell had also been opened. The idea still seemed wrong but he was too out of it to even begin thinking about investigating.

He very gently rolled to a spot that hadn't yet been warmed by his body and waited for unconsciousness to claim him again when he was wrenched into an upright position by the collar of his jumpsuit. The world spun alarmingly and his stomach turned violently, forcing him to dry heave painfully. Nothing but bile burned his throat and he briefly wondered how long it had been since he had last eaten.

Steve peered up at the large man before him and rasped, "Aloha."

He heard a voice that sounded a lot like Danny say, _have you **no** sense of self preservation?_

"Danno?" he called out, making a huge effort to reclaim control of his body and scanned the surrounding area. A sea of orange was quickly forming in front of him and he planted his feet firmly on the ground, shrugging out of the grasp of the man who was holding him up.

The apparent leader of the group cleared his throat loudly and smiled, revealing a set of gold teeth.

"So," he had a foreign accent but his next words stopped Steve's attempt to place it, "You like hurting children."

"_What?_" he blurted.

"Word is you're into little girls. That right, Johnson?"

"Jo-Johnson?" Steve stammered, "I… I'm Lieu-"

Before he could reveal his name, Danny's voice screamed in his mind, _What are you **doing**? Sure, tell them you're a Navy boy and they'll beat you through the ground!_

"So, little girls give you a hard on and men make you stammer like an idiot?" another guy shouted.

The leader glared at the other man and turned back to Steve, "See, I'm in a good mood today, so I thought you should know _why_, before we get into it."

"Why… what?" Steve almost whispered, his mind racing.

"Why you are going to wish you were never born."

Laughter tore through the room but Steve could only hear the blood rushing through his veins, his heart fighting its way out of his chest. He knew he was vastly outnumbered but the first three guys who came at him were out cold before he even acknowledged the thought.

* * *

_"We think Wo Fat has Danny and Steve but there is no paper trail, no surveillance footage, no signs of a break in at both the prison and McGarrett's place."_

Chin Ho Kelly's words still rung in Brad's ears, three hours after he met the remaining half of the Five-0 task force. Brad knew there wasn't much that could be done other than listen to word on the streets and pray something came up. It didn't, however, stop him from calling his team in and contacting every connection he had.

Two days later he got his first break and he genuinely thought he'd be happy about it, but he was fuming.

"What do you mean the fucking _CIA_ did this?" He hissed.

"I don't have details but I know where to get them," his informant whispered.

"Thanks," he said blandly.

He turned to face his team and spoke, "Apparently Danny had a run in with the CIA and he got out. I'm guessing they took McGarrett as well to make it seem like Wo Fat was out for revenge."

"Any idea where he is?"

"No. Jenkins is working on it," he answered.

"Do we get to leave a message for the bastards?"

"Definitely," Brad smiled wickedly, "But we get my brother and the Commander home first."

* * *

Four days, Danny thought to himself. He had been stuck in some sort of cell for four whole days. His only reminder that there was a world outside existed in the form of a full metal door with a small grille at the top, too high for him to be able to look through, and a flap at the bottom through which they passed vermin infested food and water.

He spent the first two days screaming himself hoarse until he was told, in painfully broken English, that he was to stop or lose all food and water. Danny never really realized how hot his cell was, or how much energy screaming took until that day.

More importantly, though, his captor had spoken to him and he now knew he was in a Middle Eastern country. He had yet to decide how the information would aid him but it definitely didn't hurt.

He hated that he had absolutely no memory of what happened before he woke up in his cell and spent most of his time retracing his steps. The last thing he remembered was passing out on Steve's couch, and then a brief moment in a vehicle of some sort. No evidence as to who was doing this or why and that was perhaps what Danny was most worried about.

Would he have to spend the rest of his life here?

Tears sprang to his eyes at the thought of never getting to watch his little girl grow up. It almost felt worse than having died in the line of duty. At least Grace would have a chance at some sort of closure. This, though… who knew what this would do to her? Her Danno had disappeared without a trace.

He wondered where Steve was because if there was any chance at all that his partner hadn't been captured, the SEAL would've found him by now. He wondered what would happen to his body if he died in here. He wondered who it was that didn't just want him dead, they wanted him to suffer.

Most of all, he wondered if maybe, _just maybe_, he should've told Steve about his little run in with the CIA.

* * *

_Steve… Hey, Steve!_ A voice called out.

"Yeah, Danno?" Steve answered tiredly.

"Shut-_the fuck_-up!" growled his "guard".

Steve was rarely awake long enough to try and figure out an escape route. Even if he could, though, he doubted he could stay on his feet for more than a split second. He did know the names of the guys he regularly played punching bag too but beyond that, everything was a haze of pain.

Taking care of himself was a chore but the beatings were worse on days when the prisoners discovered full plates of food in his cell. He considered asking why, but no longer had the energy to do anything at all anymore.

Danny was the only thing keeping him going. He hadn't figured out how his partner was doing it, but it was almost like he was right there. On his second day he dragged himself to each corner of the cell looking for bugs, cameras and microphones but found nothing.

_Just a little while longer, okay partner? We're on our way and we'll get you out._

"Can't get me out, Danno… Everyone thinks I killed Jameson, remember?"

_I'm coming, I promise._

"Mmkay," was all Steve managed.

"Why do you keep talking to yourself?" asked the guy in his cell, eying him warily.

The leader of the pack that routinely "took care of him", had taken to leaving one of his men with Steve at all times to prevent anyone else from carrying out unauthorized punishments. The prison guards were either blind or didn't care. Steve didn't really mind as long as they didn't bother him. This one, though, always seemed to want to talk.

Steve groaned, "Told you… talking to my partner. Danno."

He was yanked up harshly by his hair, "Do you see anyone here besides me, _huh_?"

"He's coming," Steve answered smugly.

"He like little girls too?"

Steve lunged forward and tackled the man, "_Don't_ talk about Danno that way!"

He had long since given up on telling them that he wasn't a child molester, nor was he Rhys Johnson, but they paid him no heed. He wouldn't allow them to talk about Danny that way, though.

Gonzales, as he was later informed was the man's name, would never speak again. Steve had smashed his jaw and most of his teeth but not before ripping out a good chunk of his tongue. He paid the price with a beating he didn't wake from for two days and Steve now knew that no matter what he did, they wanted him alive.

None of his "guards" ever tried to talk to him again.

* * *

As it turned out, once you knew where to look, information was easier to come by. Five days after speaking to his informant, Brad knew where his friend was. He didn't know what he would find when he got there, but Brad found he didn't quite care.

Thirty three hours and twenty seven minutes later, he kicked open the door to the cell to reveal a man with his back to the door, his shirt almost translucent and clinging to his back revealing painfully red skin.

"Dan…?" Brad called out tentatively, not wanting to startle his friend.

Danny's whispering increased in volume ever so slightly and Brad walked further into the dusty cell. Two hours here and already felt like he had sweated out half his weight. His heart ached for his friend.

"Danno loves you, Gracie. Danno loves you. I'm so sorry, Gracie. Danno loves you…"

Brad stopped advancing the moment he heard Danny's words and fell to one knee, reaching out to try and bring Danny back to awareness, severely disturbed by the fact that Danny hadn't reacted to his surroundings at all. A voice crackled in his ear, reminding him that they didn't have much time left.

He nodded to Richard, the team mate who came in behind him, who readied the sedative they brought along in case Danny tried to resist their aid and, as gently as possible, scooped Danny into his arms.

* * *

Danny winced at the contact of rough, stiff fabric against his raw skin that held more heat than should've been possible. The explosion at the door of his cell didn't faze him, probably just another attempt by his captors to force a reaction out of him. Then, he could've sworn he heard a familiar voice call out his name but he refused to allow his mind to play tricks on him again.

He didn't dare look up at whoever was carrying him, drawing on the training that had saved his life more times than he cared to remember.

_If you don't know what they look like, you can't identify them in a line up so **keep your head down**. They don't need another reason to kill you._

Danny grimaced at the memory of his training officer.

He did wonder why his captor had lifted him rather gently instead of just dragging him along. It meant one of two things, they were actually capable of mercy, or a far worse fate awaited him. The slight bobbing motion was almost comforting, until he realized they were moving upwards and the steady thumping of helicopter blades grew louder and his heart clenched. He was being moved, which would make it even harder to track him.

Danny took a deep breath, and allowed his thoughts to drift to Grace instead. He felt guilty, at first, using his daughter as a coping mechanism. The idea that he was drawing all those beautiful memories into this helpless situation gnawed at his conscience but he wanted to _survive_. Then he would gather new memories.

It suddenly occurred to Danny that the hands holding him were not particularly restrictive and, before he could formulate a proper plan, threw himself forward. He managed to break his fall with a roll, jumped up and started forward to attack the closest hostile.

His blows were deflected surprisingly, but his captor did not make any attempt to attack. He felt a sharp prick in his neck and he lost feeling in his limbs. The familiar voice resurfaced in the fog of his mind again, calling out to him.

"Steve?" he slurred, before crumpling at Brad's feet.

* * *

Steve no longer knew time. Sustenance was forced down his throat. He learned to live without sight, his eyelids swollen and crusted over with a discharge. At the very least, it prevented damage to his eyeballs. He rarely smelled anything more than blood, sweat and the evidence of his inability to drag himself to the toilet bowl.

Pain was the last to go and all that remained was a haze of memories. Occasionally a sense of urgency would permeate and he'd wonder what would happen when his fellow prisoners tired of breaking bones and decided to seek their pleasure in other ways. He shuddered at the thought but he felt a shift in the air beside him and quickly retreated into the recesses of his mind, tearing himself away from whatever was being done to him.

* * *

Danny drifted in and out of consciousness, always surrounded by quiet conversation, of which he heard snatches and understood none. He hated that they seemed to be taunting him with comfort before they revealed the purpose of his abduction, but he reveled in the luxury of a soft bed and comfortable temperatures. He never allowed himself to forget, though, that it would all soon be a distant memory.

The third time his mind was drawn to awareness, a small hand slipped into his and a quivering voice spoke, "Daddy?"

Danny's heart was pounding.

_Grace?_

_No, NO. _

_How'd they get my little girl?_

His daughter's soft hand left his calloused palm and his fingers curled around air, half a second too slow.

Suddenly he was being prodded by hands, turned over and poked with cold instruments. There were voices calling out to him and he wondered if this was it.

_Don't do it in front of Grace_, he pleaded silently.

His mantra resurfaced, _For Grace. Live for Grace!_

Danny's body spurred into action and he fought the hands, thrashing wildly. His mouth opened and closed dumbly as he willed his voice to work.

"Grace," he croaked.

"Detective Williams, please, let us help you."

"GRACE!" Danny bellowed.

The arms that held him were now stronger and rougher and he felt a cuff encircle his wrist. He ripped his arm out of the cuff, barely registering the strips of skin that were scratched off his arm.

"STOP! LET GO OF HIM. NOW," Brad shouted.

A new voice, Danny realized. He couldn't place it, but he trusted this person.

"Sir, you don't understa-," the doctor, who was the exact opposite of calm, tried to explain herself.

"NO. You _will_ allow him to see his daughter. I was told I would be alerted and allowed to speak with him the _second he woke up!_"

The doctor stammered her way through an apology but Brad strode over to the side of Danny's bed.

"Hey, Dan, can you open your eyes? I promise I'll explain, just open your eyes," Brad coaxed.

"Steve?" Danny mumbled, blearily gazing in the direction of the sound.

Brad exhaled heavily, "No, but listen, you're safe. You need to let the doctors help you and then I'll bring Grace in, okay?"

"No!" Danny's eyes opened wide and he began scanning the room for his daughter, "Grace first. I want to see Grace."

His breathing grew erratic and he gripped Brad's arm, "Safe?"

Danny's broken whisper tore through Brad's heart, "Safe, Dan. You're in Hawai'i."

"Home?"

"Yeah, buddy. Home."

Half an hour later, Kono and Chin walked into his hospital room looking ready to drop from exhaustion but Danny didn't comment, because he felt the same. Except he had Grace snuggled up against his side, he'd had a hot meal and the air conditioning was on full whack just because he could and he wasn't ready to slip back into the land of the dead just yet.

Danny was slightly disturbed by the fact that his partner wasn't there when he woke up and he had yet to ask Brad what he was doing in Hawai'i but when Chin and Kono walked through the door without Steve, Danny _had_ to ask.

"Where's McGarrett? He'd better not be too chicken to apologize for taking so long to get me out?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Answer me, right now. Where's McGarrett?" he asked, more insistently.

"I'm sorry, Dan. I only had one location and we searched the entire place. I left guys behind to look but…"

Danny stared at Brad, trying to digest the information he'd just been given. He motioned to Kono to take Grace and once his daughter was out of the room, he fixed his gaze on the two men in front of him, all traces of exhaustion having dissipated.

"From the beginning, please," Danny said, steeling his nerves.

Danny couldn't believe it. He broke his way out of the warehouse to help his partner and now it could well be the cause of his dea- _No_. No, Steve didn't get to die that way. Not because of the CI-_fucking_-A.

He signed out of the hospital AMA an hour later despite heavy protesting from both Brad and Chin, but he wouldn't waste energy arguing with them. By his logic, as long as he knew Steve was in jeopardy, he wouldn't be able to rest anyway. Chances were better he'd return to full health even faster if he were actively participating in the search.

* * *

Brad felt like shit. Danny's partner was missing and they had no leads because apparently he spooked the idiot responsible for all of this enough that the guy had fallen off the face of the planet and they were back to waiting for word to trickle to them through the grapevine.

He hadn't had much of a choice though. The guy was high profile which meant he couldn't disappear without people noticing and if this thing got out into official channels. The last thing they needed was a full blown inquiry into the matter when time was of the essence.

His brother was safe, but he couldn't bring himself to feel relief. The ordeal wasn't even over yet and he was already fairly certain it had shaved ten years off his life.

* * *

Steve was missing, quite possibly because of something he did. Of course, there wasn't much of an option at the time, but it was still something _he_ did. He felt responsible, but he wouldn't allow himself to waste time feeling sorry for himself or worse, crying.

The first thing his daughter said to him when he left the hospital was, "Daddy, will you bring Uncle Steve back, now that you're better?" The sight of his daughter's swollen, red eyes was more than enough to draw tears but he told himself, _not this time_.

One day later, when they found a lead, the wave of relief that washed over him forced Danny to his knees but still, there were no tears.

He found his partner, his best friend, his _brother_ crumpled in a bloody, mangled heap. Danny's heart stopped at the sight and he felt a familiar pricking behind his eyes but he ignored the sensation, running forward to help Brad strap Steve onto a back board.

Danny always thought he would never kill for anyone but Grace. He was pleased to find he was right. The man responsible for Steve's afflictions would never move again. Prosthetics were hard to come by, in prison. Causing pain rarely gave Danny a sense of satisfaction, but he left the prison with the ghost of a smile on his face.

Any semblance of satisfaction fell away at the sight of his partner, pale as a sheet. He held Steve's hand throughout the journey to the nearest hospital, muttering nonsense in his ear hoping his partner would acknowledge his presence and find comfort in it.

Ten days later, when Steve opened his eyes, focused on him and rasped, "Danno…" with a blinding smile, Danny wept.

* * *

**Epilogue**

"What do you mean you can neither confirm nor deny?" Steve grumbled.

"Exactly what you think it means, Steven. I can neither confirm nor deny riding in on a white stallion to rescue your ass!" Danny answered smugly.

"So you were there!" Steve said triumphantly, "And stop trying to char my steak, please."

"You saw a white stallion when we- that is, _they_, rescued you? Are you sure you're ready to come back to work?"

"It's desk duty, Danno. And you _were_ there, admit it. I highly doubt Brad held my hand for two hours."

_There it was, that blinding smile again_, Danny thought to himself.

The last six months had been hard, and physical ailments weren't even close to the worst of it. Steve truly believed he had imagined an entire year and Danny still shuddered at the memory of the nightmares, the numerous escape attempts and the constant hurt in his eyes before he understood that his partner hadn't actually left him to rot in a cell.

For the one month Steve spent in hospital, Danny, Chin and Kono were the only people who dared approach him while he was sleeping after a few 'episodes'. At least, that was the term the psychiatrist used for the times when Steve woke up thrashing wildly, ripping out every wire attached to him and attacking everyone in sight. Steve agreed to meet with Dr. Somya after he tried to attack Grace when he was startled awake because she dropped a box of color pencils.

His last appointment with her had been three weeks ago but today was the first time Steve seemed truly comfortable around Grace and Danny couldn't be happier. Steve still tired easily, which was why Danny was in charge of steaks tonight, much to his partner's disgust. He was going stir crazy at home, though, which was why he was returning to work in a limited capacity.

"You've ruined the steaks!" Steve snapped and winced as he stood to grab the tongs out of Danny's hand.

Danny was drawn from his thoughts, "Oh no you don't! SIT. _Stay_. I will get you your steak. I _told_ you not to take Grace swimming. Can't even stand up without making a face! Honestly, Steven."

"But Danno…!" Grace and Steve started together before launching into unintelligible tirades about how swimming was _always_ a good idea.

"Yeah yeah I've heard it all before, now do you want dinner or not? Grace, run inside and wash your hands, please."

* * *

The next morning, Steve limped into his office half an hour early and gave Danny a sheepish look. The blond schooled his features into something resembling disappointment when in reality he'd expected Steve to walk in an hour before.

"Here," Danny said as he tossed a black glove on Steve's table.

Steve frowned at his partner and picked up the glove, immediately tracing the ridges with his fingers. The familiarity was unmistakable, it was the same glove worn by his lifeline. The only thing that anchored him as he walked the thin line between life and death on the day he was rescued. It had been a close call, closer than any of them were comfortable acknowledging. He looked up in surprise, but his partner had already left his office.

_Of course Danny had been there._

**_End_**


End file.
